


Find Me

by highflyerwings



Category: GOT7
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, POV Jackson Wang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23589829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highflyerwings/pseuds/highflyerwings
Summary: He knew each of them, at some point over the coming days, would find their way to him.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang, Jackson Wang/Everyone, Kim Yugyeom/Jackson Wang, Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	1. Jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this in the fall of 2019. After I witnessed the darkness Jackson went through during that summer, I wanted nothing more than to make sure he was okay; that he felt safe. The only way I could do that was to make the other boys take care of him for me. For us....in case you needed this too.
> 
> The story starts during their Keep Spinning world tour, when Jackson meets back up with them in Australia. The timeline is undefined from there.

______________________________

The seven of them together were the closest thing to perfect Jackson had ever experienced. He was still young, he knew that. He knew, objectively, that he had a lot of growing up to do yet, but he also knew instinctively that there was something different about the way they all fit together. _Soulmates_ , Bambam had called them once, and Jackson knew he was right.

So Jackson knew the peace he felt when they were together. And he knew, maybe even more deeply, the ache he felt when they were apart. Too much empty space around him, too sudden and disorienting. _Nauseating_. Like he could never quite take a deep enough breath, his head spinning with the lack of it. And regardless of how many solo schedules he’s had over the years, he found his fingers still shook a little when he would glance over his upcoming itinerary of flight schedules, and tv spots, interviews, team meetings, and performances. All alone. All without _them_. 

The absences never got easier. The pain never lessened. But he learned to do it. _For_ them, or in spite of _himself_ he could never quite figure out which.

But the absences were never long. Terrible, yes, but never long. And this one was no different. Just as quickly as he had bid them farewell, with promises of ‘ _s_ _ee you soon_ ,’ he found himself welcomed back to giddy, warm smiles, and open arms. Soft murmurs of ‘ _missed you_ ’ and ‘ _glad you’re back_ ’ whispered against his ear, warm breath against his neck as he was pulled into another hug.

He knew they felt the distance too, so he knew this was coming. He knew each of them, at some point over the coming days, would find their way to him.

  
  



	2. Yugyeom

Yugyeom was first, as he had anticipated. As he always was. He followed Jackson into the backseat of the van taking them from the airport to their hotel, quickly shuffling in beside him. The long length of him bent, and pressed in close to Jackson’s side in the cramped space. 

This had become their ritual by now. Within thirty minutes of Jackson’s return, Yugyeom would latch onto him like an excitable puppy, demanding attention that Jackson was only too happy to give him. He instantly made Jackson feel needed, and missed, and the deep melancholy of homesickness quickly dissipated under his soft coos and gentle laughter. 

“I missed you, hyung.” Yugyeom looped his arm through Jackson’s and slid down in his seat to rest his head on Jackson’s shoulder. 

“Missed you too, Gyeomie.” Jackson pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head, and his chest tightened a little when he felt Yugyeom smile against him, squishing his cheek against the fabric of Jackson’s shirt. 

Jackson leaned his head back against the seat, and settled in for the ride as their driver pulled them out onto the road.

No matter how close their hotel was to the airport, the ride always seemed too long. The need to be away from prying eyes, to be still and silent behind a closed door — even if it wasn’t your own — too strong. The slow crawl of traffic always seemed too much like some cosmic joke in the apparently never-ending comedy routine of Jackson’s life, but he breathed through it. He let himself be lulled by the weight of Yugyeom at his side — asleep now — and the quiet murmurs of the other passengers, the hum of the car, and the road beneath them.

He leaned his head against Yugyeom’s and looked down at their linked arms, Yugyeom’s a dead weight between them as he slept. He maneuvered slowly, carefully adjusting his position so he could slide his hand into Yugyeom’s. He laced their fingers together, softly pressing his hand into the warm cradle of Yugyeom’s palm. He thought idly how Yugyeom’s hands were always so warm. Every part of him, from his heart to his hands, so full of warmth. Jackson craved it. He basked in it like sunshine. He thought maybe if they sat like this long enough, held hands for the right amount of time, that some of that warmth would transfer to him and fill the dark spots inside him with something different. 

Yugyeom shifted a little in his sleep, and Jackson froze. He hadn’t wanted to disturb him. But Yugyeom just readjusted a little, squeezing his hand gently and curling it towards himself. He wiggled his fingers to better fit between Jackson’s, and he softly sighed back into his doze against Jackson’s shoulder.

Jackson smiled, and pressed another soft kiss to the top of Yugyeom’s head. He breathed in the smell of his shampoo. Took in a deep lungful of soap, and warmth, and Yugyeom, and for the first time in what felt like months, he relaxed. Tracing idle patterns into the back of Yugyeom’s hand with his thumb, somewhere between one red light and the next, he fell asleep.

***

He awoke some time later to Yugyeom’s restless shifting, the others slowly gathering their belongings and preparing to get out of the car as they pulled up to the hotel. Yugyeom stretched and yawned beside him. 

For all the grace and control Yugyeom had over his own body on stage, it was times like this that Jackson was again reminded of a puppy. One that isn’t aware of his own size, all legs and eagerness, ready for the next adventure. Jackson lazily reached over to ruffle his hair. 

“My Yugyeomie,” he cooed. “ _So cuuute_.” 

Yugyeom whined, a blush spreading easily across his cheeks, dusting them a pretty pink as his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. He pulled away and quickly scrambled out of the car with Jackson’s laugh following teasingly behind him.

Their manager met them in the lobby, key cards already in hand, ready to distribute to the members. 

“I’m rooming with Jackson-hyung,” Yugyeom stated, with a finality that implied it was not up for discussion.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” their manager mumbled, and handed over the last key card in his hand to Yugyeom, who beamed in triumph.

Jackson just sighed and pushed Yugyeom towards the elevator, “Alright, kid,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Amidst yawns, and quiet grumbling, they all sleepily filed into the elevator one by one. Someone hit the button to their floor, and as the doors slid shut, and the elevator sent them upwards with a gentle lurch, Yugyeom slipped his hand back into Jackson’s, and smiled at him with that warmth Jackson didn’t think he deserved but would accept all the same.

  
  



	3. Jinyoung & Mark

The next night brought Jinyoung and Mark to Jackson’s hotel room with soft knocks, and even softer smiles when he begrudgingly opened the door to let them in. 

“Be quiet,” Jackson warned. “Yugyeom’s asleep.” 

Mark waved him off. “Calm down, he can’t hear anything. I know he always sleeps with his headphones on.” 

Jackson watched as Jinyoung crept up to the bed and looked over Yugyeom’s sleeping form with a fondness he would deny later if asked about it. 

Jinyoung made a thoughtful noise then, and suddenly turned back around to face Jackson. 

“Were _you_ asleep?” he asked bluntly. 

He held Jackson’s gaze. His big, brown eyes, too observant, Jackson always thought. Too _knowing_. 

“Uh,” Jackson shifted on his feet, suddenly uncomfortable with the question because he knew where this was going. “No,” he said. “ _Why_?”

Mark and Jinyoung exchanged a look. 

“Told you,” Mark said, and Jinyoung rolled his eyes.

Choosing to ignore the exchange, Jackson pressed on, “So is this a slumber party now?” he asked.

Mark laughed softly, “Yeah, something like that,” he said. “Come on, Gaga,” he motioned for him, and gently guided Jackson to the other bed. 

Jackson let himself be pulled with only a little protest, let himself be maneuvered by Mark’s steady hands with only a few minor grumbles, until he was on his side tucked under the covers, with his back pressed to Mark’s chest. Mark draped an arm over him, pressed his hand to Jackson’s chest — ‘ _Be still,’ it said; ‘Stay’_ — and snuggled closer.

Once they were settled, Jackson let out a resigned sigh. 

“Guess it’s bedtime then, huh?”

“Yep,” Jinyoung said simply, leaving no room for discussion as he went around the room and switched off the lights. 

Leaving the bathroom light on, he pulled the door closed, just enough to allow a soft glow to spill out into the room. “Nightlight,” he whispered. ‘ _For Yugyeom’_ went unspoken, but was implied, and Jackson would try to remember to tease him for it later. 

He watched as Jinyoung carefully made his way back to the bed and slid under the covers on his other side, facing him.

And suddenly everything was still. 

It was _too_ still.

Not five minutes ago, Jackson had been up, working on lyrics, and composing, sending notes and adjusted schedules to his Team Wang staff. He’d been toying with the idea of going to the gym and burning off some late-night steam. He’d been awake. He’d been _productive…_

“I have work to do, you know. I’m not even _tired_ ,” he reasoned.

“Quiet,” Mark said. His voice was stern — slurred on the edge of sleep — deep and muffled against the back of Jackson’s neck. Jackson knew he already had his eyes closed. “You’re tired, you just won’t admit it.”

Jackson huffed out a frustrated sigh through his nose. _He should be working._

He could feel Jinyoung shaking with silent laughter in front of him. Laughing at him. At both of them. He felt ridiculous, _this was ridiculous_. 

He made to get up, but Mark tightened his grip around him, and Jinyoung reached across the space between them to lay a gentle hand against his hip. 

“Hey, stop. It’s okay,” he shushed him. “Just...lay here for a little bit?” he asked. “Please?”

Defeated, Jackson relaxed back into the bed. 

Resistance was futile.

" _Fine_ ,” he agreed. 

And that was that.

And soon, ‘a little bit’ turned into ‘a while,’ into long enough that he felt Mark fall asleep behind him. His breath slow and even against Jackson’s back. He could see Jinyoung’s face in the glow from the bathroom light. His eyes sleepy, but open, watching Jackson while the quiet settled in around them.

They breathed, and watched each other while Yugyeom’s soft snores drifted over from the other bed. He kept waiting for Jinyoung’s eyes to finally drift shut, but instead, he found Jinyoung carefully scooting forward. Slowly inching his way closer until they were sharing the same breath on the same pillow beneath their heads.

The energy changed then, slightly. It shifted with each breath they took, and Jackson held still, afraid if he moved it would break the tension. Snapping it backwards when he wanted it taught, warm and energized like it was then between them in the silence of that hotel room. So he held still and waited. 

He waited for Jinyoung.

“I missed you, Seun-ah.” Jinyoung’s voice was deep, and soft, and something seized up inside Jackson, clenching around his heart with something so terribly sad Jackson thought he might cry. He let the pain bloom inside him for a moment, bright and blinding, and then willed it away, pushed it somewhere else as his fingers grazed the fabric of Jinyoung’s t-shirt. Twisting the material idly between his fingertips, he let out a shaky breath in response. 

“Did you miss me too?” Jinyoung asked, his voice barely above a whisper; a dark and honeyed rumble against him. The shiver that ran down Jackson’s spine with it felt something akin to that blinding pain from moments before being chased out of him, leaving room for something softer, something _sweeter_.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Jackson whispered. It was all he would allow himself. Afraid the waver in his voice would give something away if he tried to say anything more.

Jinyoung let out a small, satisfied sound, and nuzzled forward. His nose brushed Jackson’s lightly, almost playful. _Testing_. Waiting to see Jackson’s response. When he got none, he pressed a little further. 

“Is this okay?” Jinyoung asked against his lips. He bumped his nose against Jackson’s again, one more time, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. _Waiting_. 

_Is this okay?_

The weight of the question hung heavy and deafening between them. 

_Are you okay with where we’re about to go?_

And yeah. He really was. He was more than okay. Mark was a warm presence at his back, curled snug around him with his face buried between Jackson’s shoulder blades. Jackson could feel every breath he took, slow and deep with sleep, his chest pressing into Jackson on every inhale. Jackson pulled Mark’s arm tighter around him. 

He felt safe. 

He nodded, and that was all Jinyoung needed to close the gap. To press his lips to Jackson’s in the very first kiss they’d ever shared. 

It was soft, and sweet, and Jackson squeezed his eyes shut so hard he saw stars.

It had been a while since he’d kissed anyone. He hadn’t even realized how long until Jinyoung’s lips touched his. Delicate and unhurried. A gentle press of lips, and soft breath. _So soft_. Jackson couldn’t remember any kiss before this one feeling _so damn_ _soft_. 

_Everything_ about Jinyoung was soft. His lips, pillowy and plush against his. His hand at the back of Jackson’s neck. The way his fingers played with the strands of his hair, idle and lazy, like he didn’t realize he was doing it. The gentle noises he let out, when their tongues touched, fleeting and shy in the space between their breaths. Jackson was floating in it, drifting in the softness and the stars behind his eyelids. 

He was dreamily high on the contact, warm and safe between two of his best friends.

He had one hand fisted in Jinyoung’s shirt, the other wrapped around Mark’s hand against his chest. He didn’t know if he wanted to push, or pull, or simply sink into the mattress and fade away with the ghost of Jinyoung’s lips on his for eternity. But he settled for pulling Jinyoung’s bottom lip between his own, and savoring the way he hummed contentedly against him.

Too soon, Jinyoung was pulling away. With one final, playful brush of his nose against Jackson’s, he melted back into the pillow with a dreamy sigh. 

“Goodnight, Seunnie.” It sounded like a thank you. “Get some sleep.”

“‘Night, Nyoungie.” He hoped it sounded like I love you.

  
  



	4. Jaebeom

Jaebeom was less obvious than the others, in his need to reconnect. And it was never until the moment had almost passed that Jackson recognized it for what it was; had him scrambling to cling to it, like the last warm rays of sun at the end of summer. 

Jackson found a recording studio in the current city on their tour, in hopes he could get some last-minute work done on his album. Make something of the last few sparks of creation before it was all said and done. He bumped into Jaebeom on his way out of the hotel. “I’ll walk with you,” Jaebeom had said, camera in hand, a bag slung over his shoulder. Jackson didn’t question where he was going, just nodded and fell into step beside him as they began their silent walk through the city.

It was companionable, _easy_ , a walk they’d taken together a hundred times before in a hundred different cities. And Jackson appreciated the company, found comfort in the way Jaebeom would stop every so often to snap a picture of a store window, or a stray cat, crouching to capture a sad, empty bottle abandoned on the sidewalk. And he pretended he didn’t notice when Jaebeom turned the camera on _him_. When Jaebeom snuck a few shots of him in the afternoon sun, he pretended he didn’t see. And if Jaebeom’s gaze lingered a bit too long, if he paused a little longer than necessary, hiding behind his camera and the pretense of setting up a shot, well then Jackson pretended not to see that either.

They made it all the way to the recording studio before Jackson realized Jaebeom had walked with him the whole way, his own errand seemingly abandoned somewhere along their journey. 

“Care if I come in?” Jaebeom asked as he followed Jackson inside.

Always one in favor of a second set of ears during production, Jackson pushed aside his growing suspicion that Jaebeom even had somewhere else to be to begin with, and he smiled and said, “Nah, man. Come on!”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jaebeom sequestered himself to a corner of the small couch in the studio he’d rented; watched as he dug through his bag, pulling out a pen and journal, small and well-worn, familiar in a way that had Jackson biting back a smile, something swelling dangerously inside his chest at the sight as he busied himself with setting up his own equipment and giving instructions to the engineer.

Half an hour later, he was in the booth, re-recording lines he’d been unsatisfied with on previous recordings, and his eyes found Jaebeom’s, watching him from the mixing board. Jaebeom had given up on whatever he’d been pretending to work on, his pen tapping idly against his notebook as he watched Jackson. And soon enough, he’d slyly moved from the couch, to the chair next to the audio engineer, and was studying Jackson with an intensity Jackson had somehow forgotten he'd possessed.

And that was it. That look, right there, the one Jaebeom was giving him now. That was the moment. A moment in a series, Jackson realized, with sudden clarity, that had been happening all day long from the moment they stepped out of that hotel together. Like he was committing something to memory, something unreadable in his expression as he looked at Jackson through the window separating them. 

Jackson finished his lines and stepped out of the booth. He was happy with the results now, but nervous, always anxious for some kind of feedback, and this time was no different. He stood next to Jaebeom as they listened to the playback. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, waited for any kind of reaction, and when the track ended, and the silence hung a little too long in the air around them, Jackson couldn’t have hid the frantic waver in his voice if he’d tried.

“Well?” he asked, breathless; _anxious_. He chewed absently on one of his fingernails. “What do you think?” he prompted.

Jaebeom’s eyes snapped to him, like he’d forgotten Jackson was there, the look on his face still painfully unreadable. _How does he_ do _that_ , Jackson thought.

And like the sun shining through a break in the clouds, Jaebeom smiled. He lifted his hand to grip the back of Jackson’s neck, and he smiled so wide Jackson felt a giddy bubble of laughter building somewhere inside his chest that he tamped down with a shy smile of his own in return.

“I love it, man,” Jaebeom said. “It’s great, it’s _really_ great.”

“Yeah?” Jackson breathed out. Relief coursed through him, leaving him floating on Jaebeom’s praise like he always did; like he always _would_.

Jaebeom nodded, and a moment passed between them. He squeezed the back of Jackson’s neck once and let his hand slip away. He looked like he wanted to say something. And to Jackson’s surprise, he did.

“I missed that...” Jaebeom said. He let the thought flutter for a moment between them, hushed and delicate, before he decided what he wanted to say. “ _This_ ,” he amended. He cleared his throat. “I missed this,” he gestured to the room around them with a shrug and an averted gaze. “I missed that sound…” _I missed your voice._

 _Another moment_ , Jackson thought. And he watched the side of Jaebeom’s face as he fiddled with one of the knobs on the mixing board.

 _Oh_...

“ _What_ did you miss, Jaebeomie?” Jackson simpered, his voice syrupy and teasing.

“What?” Jaebeom looked at him, the tell-tale signs of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Did you miss _this_ ,” Jackson gestured to the room around them. “Or did you miss _me_?” He batted his eyelashes, and nudged Jaebeom with his shoulder. Fucking with him. _Mostly_.

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, and tried to hide his smile. “ _Stop_ ,” he said, and Jackson just cackled.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "chapters" get a little more long-winded as I go. Honestly this is the longest work I've written on my own, and writer's block is being an unfair bitch, so please bear with me. The next 2 chapters are planned out and coming shortly, I just needed some space to think, which meant getting these first 4 out into the world before I looked at them for a second longer.
> 
> Comments mean the world, as you know. So don't hesitate.


	5. Youngjae

Youngjae was loud. In every sense of the word. With his voice, and with his love. Fans and peers alike called him _sunshine_. The group’s warm, and shining light, a source of comfort and happiness, which wasn’t _wrong_ necessarily, it just...wasn’t how Jackson saw him. 

To Jackson, Youngjae was a _supernova_. Brighter than a thousand suns. Full of color and chaos. Expelling raw, blinding energy in the way he sang, the way threw his head back when he laughed, his mouth wide and unapologetic. 

He existed for no one but himself. A fierce wave of energy, loud and wild, like he currently was in their dressing room backstage, just an hour before their concert. 

They were all in varying stages of dress, and makeup; stylist hyungs and makeup noonas flitting about, calling each of them one by one to finish getting ready. 

Jackson and Youngjae were the first to finish, which left them to their own devices until it was time to start stretches and warmups.

Jackson was lounging on a small sofa, his phone out, scrolling through social media. 

Youngjae was moving.

_Youngjae was always moving_. 

Constant motion. Filling the room with his voice, and the nervous energy leaking out of every step he took, every time he paced back and forth as he did his own vocal warmups. He was desperate to be out on stage already, and the air was palpable with it. He did another loud vocal run as he passed behind the couch, and that was it, that was enough.

“ _Youngjae_!” Jackson yelled. “ _Enough_!”

Youngjae just laughed as he turned to pace back the other way.

“Come here,” Jackson said. He reached behind the couch, grasping at whatever part of Youngjae he could grab a hold of before he got away. “Come here,” he said again as he tugged a cackling Youngjae around to the front of the couch and forced him to sit down beside him. 

“Just...be still for a second.”

Youngjae giggled again but stayed put. 

Satisfied that he could get a little peace, at least temporarily, Jackson relaxed. He resumed his mindless scrolling on his phone as he felt Youngjae settle in beside him.

All was quiet for a moment, until he felt Youngjae shift again, leaning against him, into his space as he peered over his shoulder and down at the phone in his hands.

“What are you looking at?” Youngjae asked.

Jackson didn’t respond.

“What are you doing?” Youngjae asked again, shoving his upper body against Jackson’s arm lightly, trying to get his attention. Whether he really wanted Jackson’s attention — to know what he was so engrossed in on his phone — or if he just wanted to annoy him, was unclear.

Jackson, again, didn’t respond. 

This seemed to set Youngjae off. 

“ _Hyuuuuung_ ,” he whined loudly, leaning heavily against Jackson’s side, his cheek squishing against his shoulder, and Jackson just knew if he looked down at him right now, he’d see _that face_. Bright eyes, and an exaggerated pout that was somehow both annoying and cute at the same time. 

Jackson glanced over. 

And yeah. _There it was_. 

He cursed himself, and his weakness for Youngjae, because that’s all it could be called. Weakness for the way he could bend the mood of a room to his will; turn Jackson’s melancholy into happiness, even for just a moment, and Jackson was weak for it. But he knew it was mutual. He knew Youngjae fed off the reaction of others. Craved the attention as much as everyone else craved his light and his ruthlessness. 

Jackson sighed. “ _What_ ,” he said.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Youngjae pouted. 

It was an act. It was always just an act. The innocent way he pouted, the naive way he maneuvered through any situation, but oh, _Jackson knew better_. They all did. There was always a telltale glint in his eye, a dead giveaway if you knew what you were looking for. There was nothing naive about Youngjae, nothing sweet about the way he pouted, or the innocent way he blinked, and giggled. He was savage, and he was wiggling against Jackson’s side now in a way that could only mean one thing.

“Come here,” Jackson sighed again. He lifted his arm, an offering, letting Youngjae shuffle down to lay his head in his lap with a contented sound. He wriggled around, situating himself on the small sofa, letting his long legs hang off the opposite end. 

Once he was settled he looked up at Jackson with a smile, and all Jackson could do was smile back. He smiled until his cheeks hurt, a warm flush settling pleasantly all over him, and he laid a gentle hand atop Youngjae’s chest.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jackson asked. “Are you happy now?”

Youngjae reached for his hand, and held onto it lightly. Gripping his wrist in the loose circle of his fingers. He sighed happily and nodded, closing his eyes.

Jackson thought about the stylists, and the minor fit they were going to throw because of Youngjae’s hair, the way it was mussed and disheveled against Jackson’s thigh. But Jackson really couldn’t be pressed to care. Not when Youngjae looked so content. When Jackson still felt warm and lovely in the way only Youngjae could make him feel. 

Youngjae started humming a little. Just a soft sound, lilting and delicate, pacifying himself with a lullaby that Jackson thought he might have heard before, but it could just be that it sounded like Youngjae.

Jackson tried focusing on his phone again, but found he was distracted. Pleasantly, now that Youngjae’s energy had taken a different turn. So he pocketed his phone, and settled in. And before he knew it, he found himself humming along. Harmonizing with him the same way he’d been practicing, the way Youngjae had been teaching him to.

He looked down at Youngjae in his lap. His eyes were still closed. There was a gentle curve to his lips as he hummed, and played idly with Jackson’s fingers. 

Youngjae was always teaching him, whether he realized it or not. He always looked at Jackson in a way that said _‘Yes, good, keep going.’_ Even now, with his eyes closed, and humming a simple tune, Youngjae encouraged him in a way not many others ever did. As Jackson listened to their voices ebb and flow against one another, he realized he had never felt more grateful for Youngjae than he was in that moment, in their own little corner of that dressing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this and given it kudos or left a comment. Just knowing even a few people have read and enjoyed it means a lot. We're almost at the end now! Just BamBam left. Wonder what they'll get up to........


End file.
